The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, aged wood, and something richer—something sweet, like wine left to ferment in the dark.

A low, velvety chuckle echoed through the grand yet decayed hall as Ambrosia leaned lazily against the banister of the spiraling staircase, watching the lost girl with a gaze as sharp as it was amused. Moonlight poured through shattered stained-glass windows, painting the ruined grandeur of the castle in ghostly hues.

"Oh, what a delicious sight…" she murmured, her voice like silk unraveling. "A princess, stripped of her throne, cast away like a broken trinket… and now, wandering straight into the arms of a monster."

Her fangs glinted as she smiled, descending the steps with slow, deliberate grace. The princess stood, not even looking bothered but she was frozen, either from fear or fascination.

"Did you come seeking refuge, little royal?" she purred, circling her now, the train of her dark black gown trailing like spilled ink. "Or… was it fate that led you here? To me?"

"Mmm, I do wonder," Ambrosia mused, eyes gleaming with wicked mirth, "what shall I do with you? Keep you? Consume you? Or perhaps…" she leaned in, lips just a breath away from the girl’s ear, "make you mine?"